Precious Time
by wonderwall85
Summary: Time is precious, especially when you know how little you have left.
1. Chapter 1

**_New story. Full of angst and all that fun stuff. And it will consist of several chapters. Hope you all enjoy._**

Prologue

**December 31st, 2011, 11:53 p.m.**

It was cold. The frosty winter wind bit harshly at her exposed skin. She stood outside on the front walkway, her teeth chattering and her hands shaking as she struggled to remove the cigarette from its pack. She tapped once, twice, allowing half of it to slide out before bringing the tip to her numb lips and pulling. She exhaled loudly, the steam from her breath blowing out against the night. The muffled sounds of music and joy reverberated behind her. The cacophony of the party inside the house was too much. She just needed a moment to think. She had only moments left anyway. She flicked her lighter, watching as the wind carried the flame every which way before she lifted it to her cigarette and inhaled, letting the smoke enter her system, calming her. Tears from the elements mixed with tears from her emotions. She wasn't ready. There was too much to be done. Too much that wasn't said.

A cold, hard hand gripped her shoulder and she shuddered, sucking in a heaving breath and biting back her tears. "Are you ready?"

She swiped a tear with her hand, and refused to look at him. "No. But there's nothing I can do about that can I?"

"You have a few more minutes." He reasoned, his gaze piercing through her.

Before she had time to respond, the door creaked open and the music got louder as a voice called to her. "San?"

Santana turned, taking another long drag of her cigarette as the blonde bounded down the walkway, rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms. "What are you doing out here alone? It's almost midnight and I want to kiss my girlfriend on New Years." When she stepped closer, she saw the tear marks and the pained expression. "Hey." She whispered. "Are you okay?"

Santana nodded, flicking her cigarette into the snow. "Yeah." She huffed, absently swiping at her face again. "Yeah, Britt. Yeah, fine. Let's go back in, it's cold."

"Are you sure?" Brittany asked, lacing her fingers through Santana's.

"I'm sure." Santana reassured, dragging her girlfriend back inside. "Come on. They're playing a slow song and I want to dance with you one last time."

Brittany smiled slightly before realizing what Santana had actually said. "Santana what—" She was cut off when Santana pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her, hard. Brittany could taste the new set of tears.

_I want to hold the hand inside you_

_I want to take a breath that's true_

_I look to you and I see nothing_

_I look to you to see the truth_

"Babe, what's happening?" Brittany whispered as they broke apart. She tried to pull even further away but Santana held her close, slowly swaying to the song. "Santana." Santana kissed her gently then, and she felt her heartbeat quicken and her stomach turn. It felt like a goodbye kiss. She felt her own tears pool beneath her lids but she had no idea why. Santana pulled back slightly, letting their foreheads touch.

_Fade into you_

_Strange you never knew_

_Fade into you_

_I think it's strange, you never knew_

"You know that I love you no matter what, right? These last few months have been the best few months of my life." Brittany nodded and she continued. "And I don't regret anything that's happened. Not one single thing, except," Santana sighed shakily, trying to work her way through her sobs. "If I could do it all over again, I'd have stopped caring and just loved you the way you deserve to be loved."

"Santana," Brittany cried, confused and afraid. "You're scaring me."

The song cut off and Rachel spoke excitedly into the microphone. "10 seconds guys! 10…9…8…"

Santana's breath quickened as the crowd began to count down. Just past the blonde, standing by the doorway, he waited patiently. Brittany's eyes frantically searched hers, and she felt her heart break at the pain and confusion she found in them. "Say you love me." Santana whispered, gripping Brittany's waist tighter.

"I love you." Brittany cried, closing her eyes.

Santana sobbed desperately. "I love you too. I always will."

"3…2..1…Happy New Year!"

Santana kissed Brittany then, feeling her life drain away.

Brittany sobbed as Santana's body sagged into hers, the weight sending her slowly to the floor. "NO!" She screamed, grabbing everyone's attention. "Santana!" A crowd circled around them immediately as Brittany placed Santana on the floor, shaking her shoulders gently. "Santana! What's happening? Santana? Santana!"

"_SANTANA!"_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Brittana angst in this one. You've seen the end though, so don't fret for too long. Thank you so much for the reviews and the "favoriting." It means a lot. I seem to have a lot of ideas for this story; ideas that won't stop coming so I should be good to crank out a chapter every few days or so. Enjoy._**

**Chapter 1:**

**September 30th, 2011.**

"Santana….Santana. SANTANA!"

Santana shot up out of bed, stupefied and annoyed. "Jesus, fuck! What?"

"It's 7:15 mija." Her father barked from her doorframe. "Get up." He adjusted his loose tie and proceeded to walk down the hallway, talking to her all the while. "You cannot and will not be late to school again. I don't need another phone call interrupting me during surgery." The last few words were muted by the increasing distance, until he yelled again. "YOU HEAR ME!"

"I fucking hate it when he does that." Santana mumbled, slowly climbing out of bed. "YES PAPI!" She spat venomously, stomping her way toward the bathroom before slamming the door hard.

She showered and dressed in record time, bounding down the stairs to grab a Pop Tart from the cupboard as her father grabbed his briefcase. "I'm working late tonight so here's some money for dinner." He pulled a twenty from his wallet and threw it on the counter.

"Yeah what else is new?" Santana grumbled through a full bite.

"Don't start with me." He warned as she downed the last of his coffee and placed the cup in the sink. "If you go decide to eat out just send me a text message." He said as he walked toward the door, missing Santana's dramatic eye roll. "Have a good day at school, mija." He said before leaving.

"Whatever." Santana mumbled as she grabbed her bag and car keys. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, startling her for a second.

_**Are you coming?-Britt**_

Santana smiled while replying. _**Be there in five.**_

_**:)-Britt**_

As promised, five minutes later Santana pulled up to the Pierce household. Brittany was waiting on the porch and quickly ran to Santana's car, smiling brightly. She kissed the brunette giddily as soon as she got in the car. "Good morning."

"Morning, babe." Santana answered, kissing her again before pulling from the curb and accelerating down the block.

"Miss me?"

"Always."

"What are we doing this weekend?" Brittany asked.

Santana shrugged. "Well, my mom is on vacation with her latest boy toy and my dad's up to his earlobes in surgeries this weekend, so we can stay at either place. I think my dad's is better though." Of course her father's was better. Her father didn't live in Lima Heights Adjacent. " We could have a Sweet Valley High marathon and get our sweet lady kisses on?"

Brittany nodded excitedly. "Okay, but tonight everyone is heading to Breadstix for dinner and I told them we'd come."

Santana turned sharply to Brittany. "Why?"

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know. It'll be fun. Besides, we could use the occasion to celebrate coming out to them like you said you would."

Santana ground on the brakes as they pulled to a red light and turned to face Brittany completely. "No I didn't. I did not say that I would come out to them today. When did I say that?"

Brittany looked like deer caught in the headlights. "Two days ago. You said, 'give me more time,' so—"

"So that means more time. Not two days."

"But two days is more time. It's two days more."

"Brittany," Santana sighed, focusing her attentions back to the road. "It was an open-ended thing. 'More time' means, 'when I'm ready.' And I'm not ready. Not yet."

Brittany huffed, running a hand through her hair. "Well when are you going to be ready because I'm tired of sneaking around."

"I don't know when." Santana argued, her voice rising in volume. They'd been having the same argument for about three weeks now and nothing was changing for either. Santana thought the "more time" thing would have worked. Obviously she had underestimated the depth of Brittany's confusion. She hated yelling at her girlfriend but things had become so frustrating between them. One second they were happy and in love and the next they were fighting…over this. Always over this.

"That's not good enough." Brittany answered with her own raised voice. "All summer we were good. We were happy. We were together and I thought it was different. You promised me that you'd at least come out to our friends so we wouldn't have to hide anymore and it's been almost a month we're back in school and we're still hiding. I want to hold your hand when we walk down the hallways, not underneath tables. I want to kiss you when I see you between classes, not in the janitor closet or the bathroom stall. I want to go out on double dates with Mike and Tina and Rachel and Finn—"

"Well I'm not ready to do all of that yet Brittany! Jesus why are you pushing this so much? How many times do I have to tell you that I'm scared of what will happen once we do start telling people? Does it matter to you that we just happen to be in glee club with three of the biggest loudmouths in McKinley High? Once they get wind of this it'll spread through the school like herpes through a friggen whorehouse and then what? How would you like a giant cup of flavored ice water smacking you dead in the face before first period? Cuz I've experienced it and it friggen sucks, but it's not half as bad as what people will say about us behind our backs. We're seniors, we're supposed to rule this school but we can't if we're being pushed against lockers and receiving slushy facials every day. Britt, I do love you, and we are happy-" Santana pulled into a spot in the school parking lot and cut the engine.

"No we're not happy because I'm not happy and I won't be happy until you let everyone know that we're dating."

"Well that's not happening!" Santana shouted. "And that's it!"

They sat in tense silence for a moment; the only sound that could be heard was their hard, frustrated breathing. Brittany's eyes squinted and her jaw clenched as the verbal dust settled. "Then it's over."

Santana's eyes widened. "Wh-what?"

Brittany released a heaving sigh and pulled at the hem of her shirt. "I can't keep doing this San. Either you're with me all the way or not at all. If you're not ready to tell our friends, friends who have proven over and over again how understanding and supportive they can be, that we're dating, then we won't be. And I won't be over tonight, or all weekend, or ever again…until you show me that your love for me means more than what people think of you." She unlocked and opened the car door, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "I'm sorry…I just can't." She closed the door and briskly walked toward the school building, anxious to put distance between them.

Santana sat still for a moment, watching the blonde disappear into the building as she processed all that had transpired in the last few minutes. _I lost her…I lost her…I lost her…again._ "FUCK!" She shouted, slamming her hands on the steering wheel. "Fuck, fuck fuck…shit!" Then, the tears came. They cascaded down her face quickly as a violent sob wracked her body. She started her car up and pulled out of the spot quickly, her tires squealing as she drove away. She couldn't go in there after what just happened and face Brittany. "Goddammit Brittany!" She screamed as she sped home, too upset to think.

Once home she ran to her room and collapsed on her bed, surrendering herself to her emotions. Her body shook violently as she sobbed, her heart shattering. She had let the one person who she loved more than anything, the one person who loved her more than anything, slip through her fingers again. She was a coward and she knew it. But the thought of the torture she and Brittany would endure was too much to overcome. She couldn't do it. She was a failure. _I lost her…I lost her…I lost her…I lost her…_repeated and repeated over and over again in her head like a broken record until it was too much to bear. Finally her body gave out and Santana fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Here's another for you. Enjoy. Thanks again for taking the time to read. _**

**_I've realized a few chapters in that I haven't provided a disclaimer. So here it is, though it really should go without saying. I own nothing. I'm just borrowing the characters for my amusement and your enjoyment. _**

Chapter 2:

When Santana awoke the afternoon sun was setting in her backyard, casting long beams of sunlight through her blinds. Her eyes burned from her tears, and felt swollen under her touch. She rubbed at them furiously, willing herself not to cry again. They had just had a fight. That was all. They were both overreacting. Santana knew that Brittany understood her predicament and would eventually forgive her. In fact, Brittany was probably worried sick that she hadn't seen her all day. School was definitely out; even glee club would be over by now. She stretched as she got off of her bed and shuffled over to her bag. After some digging she found her phone and turned it on.

There were no worried texts. There were no missed calls from Brittany. There was one from her father, and a voicemail, which she was sure implied that the school had informed him of her absence today and that he was not happy about it. But that was it. There was nothing else. No calls meant Brittany was entirely serious this morning. Santana turned her phone off and on again, in the hopes that maybe it just needed a reset so all of the texts and calls Brittany had left could flood in.

There was nothing.

Santana threw her phone down on her bed and pressed her palms to her eyes, willing the tears back. Couldn't Brittany see how hard this was for her? Didn't she know how much she loved her, but how afraid she was, not only for herself, but for Brittany as well? Couldn't she see how much it mattered that they be left alone in their last year as high school students? Why was she being so difficult?

Sniffling loudly, Santana furiously rubbed her eyes and looked around her room. Pictures of her and Brittany in various stages of life and their relationship littered her walls. She took them all in, allowing several feelings of remorse and guilt and sadness wash over her. But before long, her sadness and disbelief had turned into something more familiar to her: anger. In an instant she was rushing toward the mass of pictures above her bed, and began ripping them down, screaming each time she tore one from its place. When that was finished she turned on her dresser, where her numerous cheerleading trophies, some framed pictures, and trinkets from her past littered the top. With an angry shout and large swipe she cleared the top, sending her possessions clattering to the floor. "BRITTANY!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, emptying her anguish in the syllables of her lover's name.

When the anger left the sadness returned. And the regret. With a sigh she shuffled through the mess back to her bed and flopped down on the mattress, reaching for her phone. She didn't have to even look at the screen to know who she was dialing. After several rings the voicemail picked up. She clicked her teeth and threw the phone down on her pillows, sighing heavily again. Brittany wasn't taking her calls either. "Great. Just fucking great." She mumbled, throwing an arm over her eyes.

"You're wasting your time." A voice called out.

Santana shot up from her bed, whipping her head around in all directions. "…the fuck?"

"I said," a deep, calm, male voice called to her again, and she looked toward her bathroom door. "You're wasting your time."

He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed against his chest. He was young, tall and lean, dressed head to toe in black. His slicked back, jet black hair clashed shockingly with his incredibly pale complexion. The muscles in his arms flexed as he straightened up and moved to pull something from his pocket. The sleeves of his black button shirt down hung open, swinging freely with every movement.

Santana was too shocked to react at first, but his movement snapped her from her daze and she screamed, clambering to the head of her bed and reaching for the nearest blunt object, her bedside lamp. "Who are you? What the fuck are you doing in my house?" She had no idea what he was reaching for but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Relax," he soothed, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the back pocket of his jeans. "I have every right to be here."

"The hell you do!" Santana shouted, standing from her bed defiantly, raising the lamp above her head. "This is my house motherfucker and the last time I checked, there were only two people living in it." She gripped blindly for her phone. "You've got ten seconds," she warned, finally getting a grip on her phone and pulling it to her body, "before I call the cops on your creepy albino ass."

He shrugged as he pressed the flame to his cigarette. "That is your choice, but I'm letting you know it's a waste of time." He pressed the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, exhaling the smoke in one long, controlled sigh. Santana was on the "9" when he added, "There are more important matters at hand." She was about to press the third "1" when he finally said, "Like winning back your precious Brittany." Santana froze. _Who was this guy?_ "Did you assume I hadn't known about her?"

"Of course not, asshole. You just saw me wreck my room and scream her name. I'm not stupid."

The man's eyebrow quirked as he took another long drag from the cigarette. "You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"Make what easy—listen, I'm about to go Lima Heights on your ass," she threatened, lunging forward slightly with her weapon. "Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't."

"Because it wouldn't make a difference and it wouldn't give you time. You should cherish the time you have left—"

"What are you talking about milky?"

The man sighed, and advanced slowly toward the teenager, never flinching despite her obvious want to hurt him. When he was close enough to really see, Santana froze on the spot. His eyes…his eyes were incredible. The irises were a mixture of black and purple and deep red just around the pupil. The colors moved fluidly with his gaze, mesmerizing her. His face looked young but his eyes, they shone with a wisdom of someone who had been around a long, long time. The arm she held above her head became slack, and the lamp fell from her grasp, crashing to the floor with a loud bang.

"Who are you?" She whispered fearfully.

"You know me, not by face but by name. I am the end. The oblivion. The final stop on life's journey." His hand reached up and his fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. They felt like ice. It burned her skin but she paid no mind, still entranced by his gaze.

"What?" She whimpered, her voice cracking.

"I am Death, Santana Marie Lopez. And I have come for you."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Here's another. I have to say that seeing all of the "Story Alerts," and "Favorite Story" emails are extremely motivating. I just hope that I live up to everyone's expectations. Don't want to disappoint. Enjoy._**

**_P.S. Has anyone ever heard Phantogram's "When I'm Small?" Check it out. The best will be in your head for days._**

**Chapter 3:**

"Oh my God, I've lost my goddamn mind!" Santana shouted, pulling her wrist from his grip. She rubbed the skin furiously, anxious to bring the warmth back. "You're not real. You're a fucking hallucination brought on by—"

"By what, exactly?" He asked skeptically.

"By…too much sleep, I don't know!" Santana clamored over her bed and crossed the room, trying to put some distance between them. Once situated, she began to pace. "Or a tumor. A brain tumor. I saw that on Grey's Anatomy. Whatsherface was talking to Whatshisname and he was dead. Or a nervous breakdown." She stopped, nodding. "Yeah, I'm having a nervous breakdown."

"I suppose I should expect a modicum of doubt. It's not every day I appear before a mortal." The man shrugged, pulling out another cigarette.

She quickly bent down and grabbed a spare sneaker that had been lying on the floor and threw it at him as hard as she could. It hit him square in the chest and bounced sideways, landing among the mess she'd made earlier. "Shit." She hissed. It hadn't gone through him like she thought it would. And he didn't flinch or move when it hit him.

He sighed. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I would like to start by saying that you aren't going to die today. That's not what I've come for." He moved to perch himself on the edge of her desk, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Unsure of what else to do, Santana just nodded. "Okay…"

"You have until the stroke of midnight on December 31st of this year. It has been decided."

Santana's jaw dropped. "Three months? I have three fucking months left to live? Is that what you're telling me?"

He blew the smoke into the air, the wisps of it crawling around his face. "You should feel privileged. I do not reveal myself to just anyone, let alone divulge the precise moment of their imminent fate. You might think me heartless but I am not without sympathy. Yours is a particularly tortured soul, unnecessarily so. You have the potential to change the course of your life while it exists here. To make different choices that will enable you to live the remainder of your life to the fullest, with contentment and satisfaction."

Santana shook her head. "No. No. You don't get to tell me that I have three months to live. I have control here."

He scoffed. "Do you mean suicide? You have no more control over that than anything else. How does it come to be that some suicides are unsuccessful? Your fate is decided for you from the minute you take your first breath." He approached Santana while he spoke, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She could feel his frozen touch through her shirt. "During life's course there are many directions and paths one can take, but the destination is the same."

Santana shrugged his arm from her shoulder and bolted from her bedroom, shouting as she hurried down the stairs. "Fuck you!" She grabbed her car keys and threw open the front door, only to find him standing on the porch.

"Do you mean to run from every situation you find difficult?"

She shouted in frustration and rushed past him, nearly jumping into her car. She looked down to put the key in the ignition and when she looked up he was gone. She started her car and peeled out of her driveway carelessly, making an oncoming car brake hard, its tires squealing in protest. The driver honked loudly and shouted from his window but Santana didn't hear it, she was rapidly accelerating away from the house. When she went to check her rearview he was in the reflection. "Shit!"

"You can't escape me, Santana. You can try, but it's no use, and you cannot control what happens."

"Oh yeah?" She challenged, pressing her foot down further on the accelerator. "What if I did this?" She slammed on the brakes and made a sharp right turn against the traffic light, causing several cars on the road to stop short. She weaved in and out of traffic lanes as she sped down the block, leaving an orchestra of horns and screaming drivers in her wake.

"You're being careless with lives that aren't your own. Just because your life won't end today doesn't mean others will be spared." Death warned, his voice stern and low.

Santana hadn't thought of that. Tears began to pool in her eyes. What if this really was happening? What if Death had come to tell her when she was going to die? She let up on the gas pedal and slowed a bit, still moving faster than the speed limit but not quite as recklessly. "Why should I believe you?" She cried, glancing in the mirror again.

"I am not something to be believed in." He stated firmly. "I am a well known and well proven fact of life." In the blink of an eye he appeared in the passenger seat of the car.

Santana jumped, drifting slightly over the lines into the oncoming lane. An oncoming car honked, snapping the girl from her shock and she swerved, but it was too late. The car clipped her back end, sending her car fishtailing out of control. "SHIT!" Santana screamed, pulling her wheel to the left and the right to try to come out of the swerve to no avail. She careened head first into a parked car, the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass filling her ears, drowning out her screams. The airbag deployed, smacking her in the face with brute force and her seatbelt dug into her flesh, marring the exposed skin. For a second she blacked out, her eyes closing and opening slowly.

She came to, dazed, her head leaning against the steering wheel, as she tried to process what had just happened. "Oh….fuck." She mumbled, the pounding in her head jumbling her thoughts. She could feel the blood running down her forehead but didn't make a move to stop it. Sitting back slowly she unbuckled herself and took stock of her limbs. Nothing seemed broken, but her head was really killing her. Her vision was blurry and her stomach turned. Suddenly someone was wrenching her car door open. It was a man, probably in his early forties, with a military style haircut. "Are you all right? I can smell gas so we have to get you out of here."

Santana could only nod as he lifted her from the seat and moved quickly from the wreck, placing her gently on the curb a few car lengths away. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her forehead, soliciting a hiss from her. "Sorry. Help is on the way."

A crowd had begun to form around the wreck and several people were on their phones, probably talking to authorities. Santana pressed her hand to the man's and he moved, letting her put pressure on her own wound. The man stood and turned, flagging the oncoming ambulance down. She looked further down the block. Another crowd had gathered around the other car, which had stopped in the middle of the road.

Suddenly Death was beside her again, pressing his fingers to the back of her neck. Instead of shrugging it off she almost leaned into it, letting his ice cold grip sooth her burning spine. "I fucked up." Santana cried, putting her head in her hands.

He sighed. "If it pleases you to injure yourself to assume some sort of control then so be it. I said you would not die today, but I cannot prevent you from doing yourself harm."

"Why are you doing this to me?" She sobbed, but before he could reply, she felt her consciousness slip away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

**October 1st, 2011—12:16 a.m.**

When Santana opened her eyes she found herself in a darkened hospital room. Having volunteered numerous times, she recognized the hospital as her father's place of work. She brought a shaky hand to her forehead, finding a large gauze pad taped there, just below her hairline. Her head hurt, but it was a tolerable hurt, a pain she could manage. Her entire body felt sore, especially her neck and her chest. Sitting up proved challenging as she couldn't move without discovering another sore muscle, but she wasn't comfortable lying down either. Once upright she pulled at the collar of her hospital gown, looking down. A large bruise was running down the front of her chest from her right shoulder to just beyond her left breast. It was large and purple and tender as anything. "Shit," she whispered, still in disbelief. The entire day had been insane, despite the fact that she had been unconscious for most of it. She looked around the darkened room, noticing that it was large and private. The privacy was probably her father's doing, seeing as he was one of the most respected surgeons in the hospital.

So also noticed that she was completely alone. No father, no friends, no Brittany and most importantly, no creepy albino men who called themselves "Death."

She found the call button, pushed it, and waited patiently. She didn't have to wait long. A young nurse with shoulder length ironed-straight light brown hair entered and smiled. "Welcome back to the land of the living," she greeted. "You were thoroughly concussed when you arrived."

"Hey Nicole," Santana groaned, running a hand over her eyes. She had known Nicole for some time, having assisted her while volunteering and had found the girl quite likable. Nicole was in her twenties so she was older, but she never treated Santana like a child, nor did she try to impress Santana because of who her father was. All she did really was joke around with everyone, coworker and patient alike. "Do you know where my dad is?"

"Emergency surgery, but I promise he only left about half an hour ago." She checked all of Santana's vitals and bandaging as she spoke, "I've been given strict instructions to answer to your every beck and call until he gets back."

Santana nodded. "Is he pissed?"

Nicole squinted, slowly shaking her head. "I don't think so honey. More like…concerned. You're lucky your head wasn't taken off by that airbag…might wanna double up on the concealer for a while though." She pointed to her jawline and Santana gingerly touched her own, feeling the bumps of bruises and missing skin. "Air bag burn. It sucks."

"Yeah," Santana muttered bitterly, "Lucky me." She sighed, uncomfortable with Nicole's fussing. "Listen, could you bring me some water? My throat is super dry."

"As you wish, your majesty." Nicole answered with a sly smile before leaving the room.

Santana managed a small smile for her friend before the girl left, but it quickly fell from her face. She tossed her blankets back and felt around her jeans, grateful that they weren't removed. Her pockets, however, were empty. "My phone…" she mumbled to herself, looking around the room, but then remembered that she had left it at her house. She wondered if Brittany had called her. She wondered if Brittany knew what had happened. Even if she did it wasn't like she could see her anyway. Visiting hours were over and Santana was sure that her father was going to make her stay overnight. Possibly even tomorrow as well.

"Here you are your highness," Nicole said, returning with a small pitcher of water and a plastic cup. "Ice cold water straight from the hospital toilet. Enjoy."

Santana managed a more genuine smile at Nicole's joke, gratefully accepting the cup and gulping down the water, soothing her throat. "Thanks."

"No problem. I have to go change Mr. Jenkins catheter now so I'm going to be a few minutes. I swear he loves it though. He always says the weirdest things to me while I'm doing it."

Santana frowned. "Like what?"

"Like, 'Ouch, you bitch, who taught you how to change catheters, the Nazis?' Stuff like that. Maybe when I come back though you can fill me in on what you do outside of this hospital, you know, besides totaling cars."

Santana laughed a little and shook her head. "Okay."

When Nicole left Santana scooted down the bed a little, trying to get comfortable. Despite having only been awake a few hours she felt exhausted. She closed her eyes, allowing sleep to consume her when a voice broke through the silence.

"Do you still doubt what I am?" He asked, his voice traveling through her ear and wrapping around her throbbing brain, calming it.

"I thought that you weren't real, yeah." Santana answered, never bothering to open her eyes.

"What if I were to prove it to you?" He asked, and she could feel his presence hovering over her bed.

Santana opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief, but wasn't quite that. "How?"

He stepped back from the bed and extended his hand. "Come with me."

"To the great beyond?" She scoffed. He didn't react. "It was a joke. Lighten up pasty face. By the way, I'm not touching you," she said, swinging her legs over the bed before sliding off. "You feel like the inside of my freezer."

He didn't respond, but instead wandered out into the hallway, waiting patiently for her to follow. Santana slowly shuffled to the doorway, cautiously looking around. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." He answered.

"What if we get caught?" She asked, looking up and down what seemed like a deserted hallway. If anyone saw her and reported back to her dad, Santana knew it would only add to the trouble she was already in.

"We won't." He assured her. "Follow me."

Santana followed him quickly down the hallway, looking around wildly for any orderlies or nurses who could spot and recognize her. She was just about to complain about being out of bed for too long when he suddenly made a right turn into a hospital room. Santana took one last look around before entering, stopping short just past the doorway.

In the bed lay an old woman, probably in her late seventies, early eighties, her hair white, her face even whiter. She was hooked up to various machines and intravenous bags. She looked sickly and in pain, but also extremely frightened. She regarded them with wide, tear-soaked eyes.

He approached and walked around the bed so that he was facing Santana, the woman's eyes following his every move. "Don't be afraid." He said, his voice soothing and soft. Her body seemed to relax but she fixed her gaze upon him, never wavering.

"What are you doing?" Santana whispered, her voice so low she barely heard it.

He never took his gaze off the woman. "Do you know who I am?" The woman nodded, the tears spilling from her cheeks. "It's all right," he soothed, holding his hand out.

"Don't do this." Santana said, her own eyes beginning to water.

"You've come for me?" The woman mumbled weakly, gripping her blanket closely to her chest.

"You knew this day would come, and you've accepted it. I know you have. Take my hand, and all you know of fear, of pain and suffering will leave you." When she hesitated, he only smiled further. "It's all right. Take my hand." He ordered gently, patiently holding his hand out to her.

Santana stood frozen, completely helpless, and could only watch as the woman slowly lifted her hand to his, closing her fingers around his palm. Suddenly her hand seemed to double in his and he gently pulled. Santana watched in amazement as an ethereal figure of the woman seemed to flow from the body, which had slumped backward onto the bed. The heart monitor went off, signaling a flat line. The woman was dead, but her ghost, her spirit, her soul was standing before Santana, smiling.

The man she knew as Death smiled at the woman, still holding her hand, before turning back to Santana. "You've seen my purpose; you have your proof."

Santana looked from the dead body to the smiling woman, her tears threatening to fall. "Are you afraid?"

The woman looked from her former self back to the teenager. "No. The end is just the beginning." She looked to Death with confidence and excitement. "Where are we going?"

"Toward eternity my dear." He answered and then addressed Santana. "Hurry back to your room before you are discovered. Go."

Santana didn't need to be told twice. She practically sprinted for her hospital room and threw herself on the bed, sobbing loudly into the pillow. He was real. He was Death.

He had come for her.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I should really start writing at a normal hour of the day. Here's another for you. Enjoy. **_

**Chapter 5:**

Santana awoke to the sound of her father snoring. Rubbing her eyes she sat up slowly, careful not to make too much noise. Her father was sleeping on the chair beside her, his head hanging over the back of the seat while his feet rested on the bar beneath her bed. She must have passed out from the exhaustion and emotional turmoil that Death had left her in. Death. She still could not believe it. But it had to be true right? He moved in and out of rooms and vehicles in the blink of an eye. He appeared and disappeared at will. He removed a woman's spirit from her body right before her eyes. And he had set his sights on her. He had revealed her expiration date, so to speak. And she only had so much time left.

Before she could really begin to process what was happening, her father woke up, snapping his head forward, inhaling deeply. He blinked tiredly for a minute before focusing on Santana. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" He stood up, quickly checking her vitals.

Santana sighed. "I'm so sorry Daddy. I totaled the car."

Her father waved it off. "I don't care about the car, mija. I care about you. What's happened today, huh? I get a call from the school saying you were absent? You don't answer your phone when I call, and then one of my interns informs me that you've been in an accident and you're being brought in."

"I'm sorry…I couldn't go to school today. I-I just…" Santana sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I had a fight with Brittany. I don't think we'll be speaking for a while."

Her father sighed, placing his hand on the top of her head and running it down the back, smoothing out her hair. "Mija, all friends fight. You and Brittany have been friends since kindergarten and you've had fights before."

"This one is different." Santana mumbled, looking down at her hands. "I messed up."

Her father sat down on the chair again, nodding. "I'm sure you two will work things out. Brittany doesn't seem like the type to stay mad for very long. She's a sweet girl, and a good influence on you." He ran a hand through his thinning hair, coughing slightly. "Now, what happened that you got into this accident?"

Santana's mind raced. She couldn't tell him about her visit from Death. He'd lock her up in the psych ward for sure. "I-I don't know. I saw something out of the corner of my eye and got distracted…I think. I can't really remember what happened." She hoped that would be enough.

Her father seemed to buy it. "You have to be more careful mija. You can't be so reckless. I only have one daughter and would like to keep her, okay?"

Tears filled the rims of Santana's eyes. _You have no idea._ "Okay. I'm sorry. Lo siento, Papi. I'm sorry."

"Okay." He whispered, but before he could say more his pager went off. He checked, it and nodded, standing. "You'll be released later on today. I will drive you home but right now I have to answer this. Nicole is still here. Call her if you need anything all right?" Santana nodded, closing her eyes as her father bent down to kiss her forehead. "I love you."

"Love you too." Santana answered, watching her father leave.

Still tired but unable to sleep, Santana switched on her hospital room's television. She flipped through the channels absently before landing on an infomercial that Brittany had made her watch several times. It was about some giant cupcake baker that Brittany found fascinating.

"_I don't get it."_

"_You don't get what Britt?" Santana asked sleepily, snuggling closely into Brittany's embrace. The blonde had her chin resting on the top of Santana's head, staring intensely at the tv screen. _

"_Cupcakes are little…this one is huge. How are you supposed to bake twelve of them in a cupcake pan if they're so big?"_

"_You're not supposed to. It's one cupcake that everyone can share."_

"_I hate sharing my cupcakes…unless I'm sharing them with you." _

_Santana smiled into Brittany's chest. "Liar."_

"_I share." Brittany stated defensively while laughing._

"_No you don't. Not cupcakes. When I ask for a piece you stuff the whole thing in your mouth and say, 'all gone.'" _

_Brittany softly chuckled. "Well at least I don't try to bite people's hands off when they go for the last breadstick."_

"_You know I loves the last breadstick." Santana mumbled, closing her eyes. "It's 2:30 in the morning Britt. When are we going to bed?"_

"_Right after this, I swear…." There was a moment of silence. "I still don't get it."_

Santana looked over at the clock on the wall. It was nearly four in the morning. She eyed the hospital phone, biting her bottom lip as the thoughts raced through her mind. Brittany would definitely be asleep by now, that is, if she wasn't watching the infomercial. She reached for the receiver once, pulled back, reached again, and pulled back again before a voice startled her.

"Do you still doubt me?" He asked, appearing at the edge of her bed suddenly.

Putting a hand to her racing heart Santana shook her head. "Jesus, will you stop doing that! At least knock before you appear outta nowhere."

"My apologies." He said, moving to the side of her bed.

"What do you want?" She asked, slightly shifting away from him.

He shrugged. "Only for you to see that time, no matter how much or little, is precious."

"But who am I to you?" Santana asked, desperate to know. "I'm nobody. I live in Lima, Ohio. I'm seventeen years old for fuck's sake. Why, of all people, did you choose me to mess with?"

He seemed to consider his answer for a moment. "I tend to follow those who have little time left. When the soul leaves things unfinished, unsettled, they do not want to depart. Mortals call me the "end" but there is more to it. Eternity. And souls that are unsatisfied with their life do not want to spend eternity in regret. So they stay, and litter this world with their misery. You are one of those, and to be honest, I see a fire in you that very few posses. Your life has become stagnant but you have the potential to make waves. Your fault is in dwelling entirely too much on the thoughts and actions of others, and letting the moments of happiness you could have slip by."

"So? So what?" Santana sniffled, crying for what seemed like the millionth time in less than 24 hours. "So I care about what people think. Who wouldn't be worried? You've seen what people can do to one another. Why shouldn't I be worried for myself or…."

"For Brittany?" He finished and she shivered. There was something about him saying Brittany's name that sent chills through her. "You cannot protect her always."

"That's just it, though, asshole." Santana mumbled, wiping at her already irritated eyes. "I should be able to. I've been doing it since we were five years old and it's the one damn thing that I know I'm good at. Well…knew."

"So do you intend to sulk for the entirety of your life? I've presented myself and my plans to you to show you that you've nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"What are you talking about?" Santana whined, uncharacteristically.

"Santana, you've till the stroke of midnight on December 31st, to make all of your dreams a reality. Nothing should hold you back. Fear of the unknown is only plausible when it **is** unknown. You have the gift of knowledge now, information that I rarely part with. And while your reckless attempt at taking control of your fate was misguided, it wasn't entirely without truth."

Santana looked at him quizzically until something in her head clicked. Knowing she was going to die on December 31st meant that she wasn't going to die between now and then. The worst thing she could have imagined for herself was to be hurt or killed by one of the many bigots that littered her town, but she really didn't have to worry about that any more did she? She could be hurt, that much was true, but it wasn't going to kill her. Nothing was going to kill her between now and then. Not words. Not people. Not slushies or lockers or bullies. **Nothing.** "What about Brittany?" She asked, the words leaving her mouth as soon as her brain could think of it.

He shrugged noncommittally.

Santana shook her head. "Nuh uh. No way. Tell me now or I'll lock myself in my damn room for the next three months and when I go you'll have to drag my ass, kicking and screaming."

He sighed, but smiled slightly. "We do not cross paths for quite some time, trust."

Seeing that that was the best she was going to get, Santana sighed. "Fine—" She stated, but was cut off when Nicole entered the room.

"You know that late-night tv is gonna fry your brain." She looked from the television to Santana, who sat wide-eyed and nervous. "You all right?"

Santana shifted her gaze from Nicole to her visitor and back again, becoming completely aware of the fact that Nicole couldn't see him. For his part he remained silent, studying Santana curiously. He stood, tucking his right hand beneath his left elbow and his chin in his left hand, watching in amusement as Santana tried to speak.

"Ah-uh…couldn't sleep." Santana squeaked, completely surprised. _Of course I'm the only one who can see him. Fucking great._

Nicole walked to the side of her bed and checked her vitals. "Your heart is racing," she mumbled. "Are you in pain?"

"Uh…" Santana grumbled, becoming aware of her body. She was sore. "A little."

"On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being pretty unbearable, how is it?"

Santana thought for a moment. "Three?"

Nicole nodded. "Okay. And how's your head? Are you feeling dizzy? Nauseous?"

Santana shook her head. "Not really. My head does hurt but it's more like a dull ache than a pounding or throbbing."

"Well I'll talk to your father and see what I can do about that." Nicole said, winking. "Sorry I've been away so long. A patient died tonight." Nicole knew talking about this to anyone but Santana would've gotten her into some serious trouble, but she knew Santana wouldn't care.

"Oh?" Santana squeaked, looking over at her silent, invisible guest. He smiled.

Nicole sighed. "Yeah. It was peaceful and she was pretty old, but it's still sad."

Santana nodded, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. "She's in a better place now." _I know. She told me when Death pulled her soul from her fucking body right in front of me._

Nicole smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "You sound so sure."

Santana only shrugged. Death watched the exchange amusedly. If she didn't think Nicole would find her crazy, she would've punched him…twice…already. Deciding she needed a distraction, Santana asked, "Has anyone else called…or anything?"

Nicole studied Santana for a moment before realizing the question. "Do you mean your mother?" Santana shrugged. She had meant Brittany, but her mother would have to do.

Nicole sighed. "No. You should probably ask your father about that though. He would know better than I would."

Santana looked down. Her father probably had called her mother, but knowing her mother she either A) hasn't gotten the message or B) got the message and didn't know how to call back. Her mother had been on "vacation" with her latest baby-faced but obscenely rich boyfriend for a little more than three months now. And she only called Santana once, to ask her to make sure they locked up the house. While her mother was away Santana wasn't allowed to stay at the house, despite much protest. While Lima Heights Adjacent wasn't the most ideal neighborhood, it certainly wasn't the worst. And while Santana boasted that it was on the "wrong side of the tracks," it was really a mixture of middle and lower class people who worked so hard they barely had time to keep their lawns manicured and their houses freshly painted. The only reason her mother lived there was because the mortgage was cheaper than her father's alimony payments.

"Whatever," Santana mumbled dejectedly. It would've been nice if her mother had shown just a little bit of interest in her well-being, but she supposed that her father was enough for now. What really disappointed her was Brittany…but all logic suggested that Brittany had no idea what had happened. Not that logic had any place in her life anymore anyway. She looked over at the figure still hovering by her bed and frowned. He seemed content in just watching her squirm. Well…he was Death after all and that always made people uncomfortable.

"I'm going to make my rounds." Nicole said, patting Santana sympathetically on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a few, okay?" Then, she was gone.

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Death, who merely smiled. "Don't you have somewhere you have to be?"

His forehead scrunched as he mimicked her stance. "I am everywhere."

Santana rolled her eyes. "This really blows. I hope she comes back with some decent pain meds to knock me into next week."

"That would be a ridiculous waste of—"

"Time!" Santana shouted, instantly regretting it, as it made her aching head pound a little harder. "I get it." She sighed, running a hand over eyes. "I get it."

He stood, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. "Well then, what are you going to do about it?"


	7. Chapter 7

_**Sorry it took so long to update. Life/Work/Stuff got in the way. It took forever to get this chapter out, with all the writing and deleting and rewriting and redeleting and more rewriting. I'm not sure I like it that much, but it's all yours now. **_

**_Oh, and I'm sorry if these chapters seem short. I'm working on fleshing out my work more. Obviously I haven't conquered that just yet. Sometimes, though, things end just where I want them to and can't be elaborated on further. I will strive for longer chapters though, in the future. _**

**_Enjoy._**

**Chapter 6**

**October 1st, 2011 10:15 a.m.**

Santana's father pulled his car into the driveway and cut the engine, turning to face her. "Is there anything you need, mija?"

Santana shook her head and smiled sadly. Her father, as promised, drove her home, but had to be back at the hospital almost immediately. "No, I'm good. I'm probably just gonna go to bed anyway."

He nodded before getting out, running around the front of the car and opening the door for her. As they walked to the front door he rattled off requests. "Okay, you have your medication. Take one every six hours to help with the pain. Keep your phone by you. I'm going to call to check in on you and you will answer, you hear me? If you feel dizzy or sick call me, don't keep it to yourself. When I get home tonight I'll change the dressing on your stitches. If you need anything—"

"Papi, por favor!" Santana shouted clutching her head but smiling. "Please. All of these instructions are giving me a headache and we haven't even reached the door yet. I got it. I'll keep my phone with me and call you if anything, okay? I promise."

He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead. "Okay. Go rest. I'll call you in a while."

Santana nodded and watched her father get back into his car. He started the engine but didn't move until she opened the door and stepped inside. With one final wave he was gone. Santana closed the door, sighed, and then winced. Her entire body was stiff and sore, making the slightest movements painful. Clutching the white paper bag holding her prescription, she slowly made her way upstairs and limped to the bedroom, her back nearly screaming in protest. She looked down at the hospital scrubs they had given her to wear home and made the decision that they were comfortable enough to sleep in. She was sure that she wouldn't be able to lift her arms over her head if she tried anyway.

When she turned the corner to her bedroom she stopped, frozen.

Brittany was sleeping on her bed. She had her back to Santana but she was there.

Santana's heart fluttered at the sight, feeling warmth build in the center of her chest and radiate outward. _She's here. She's here for me._ Santana took in her girlfriend's form. She looked so..._right_...in her bed. It made Santana's breath hitch whenever she took in the sight of Brittany's slumbering form and that was the reason. Nothing seemed so perfect as Brittany in her bed. During those moments when Santana felt her most secure, usually after making love to Brittany, she would envision their future. She would come home from work, as a doctor or lawyer or something successful like that, and Brittany would be in their bed, waiting for her, having gotten home from her dance studio just hours before. When Santana entered the bedroom Brittany's face would light up and she would jump out of bed and rush to her wife and hug and kiss her all over. They would make love and then talk about their day and whisper about everything and nothing before falling into a peaceful slumber in each other's arms. It was perfect in every way. Santana knew that it wouldn't ever turn out that way (especially now) but it was nice to dream.

Still, Brittany being there seemed so natural that even though Santana thought it unlikely after their break-up, she almost knew Brittany would be waiting for her when she got home.

She started to make her way toward the bed when her foot hit one of the many items still strewn across her bedroom floor. It rolled and clinked with another item making just enough noise to jar the slumbering blonde. Santana watched silently as Brittany sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes before twisting around toward the source of the offending noise. She gasped when her eyes found Santana. Almost immediately after, she burst into tears.

Caught off guard and completely unsure of herself, Santana stood rooted to the spot. She had no idea what to expect from Brittany, with the way they left things the day before. She couldn't stand seeing the blonde cry, but she had no idea what to say or do so she stayed silent, hoping that Brittany would eventually talk to her.

Brittany wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands and ran an arm under her nose as she stood, cautiously making her way toward the smaller brunette as if she were afraid that any sudden movements would break her. After a beat of awkward silence Brittany began to speak. "I was mad at you all day so I didn't answer the phone when you called. When you didn't leave a message I got worried. I tried calling you like, twenty times but you didn't answer. Then I got a message from Quinn who told me she saw a really bad accident outside of the Lima Bean and it kind of looked like your car but she wasn't sure. I tried calling you like a hundred more times but you didn't answer so I just came over." The tears started again and Brittany wrapped her arms around herself. "I wanted to wait for you to come home because I knew that if you came home you would be okay and…." She lowered her chin too look at the floor before sobs began to wrack her body. "I'm so sorry San."

Santana shook her head and pulled Brittany into a hug, ignoring the painful flare-up that came with the movement. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Brittany buried her face into the crook of Santana's neck, wrapped her arms around her waist and cried, unable to say anything more than "I love you," over and over again. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Santana whispering comforting words in the blonde's ear, before Brittany pulled back. She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands before really taking in Santana's appearance. "Oh God, San. God, are you okay?" Santana nodded, but her grimace said otherwise. "You…you could've been…" The tears started again. "And the way we left things...the things I said….God, I'm so sorry."

Santana shook her head, immediately regretting it as a burning pain spiked up the back of her neck. "Don't be. I should be apologizing to you. You…" She stopped for a moment as the figure that had been haunting her for the past day suddenly appeared behind her love. She grit her teeth and set her jaw. This was a private moment and HE was invading it. There wasn't much she could do though, with Brittany in the room, so she tried to ignore him. He nodded his head encouragingly. She closed her eyes, hoping that he would leave. When she opened them again he had moved to perch upon her desk like he had the day before. Her gaze flicked back to Brittany, whose eyes glistened with shed and unshed tears. She was waiting patiently for Santana to finish. Santana sighed, lifting her hands to Brittany's cheeks to gently brush the tears away with her thumbs. "You were right. We can't keep hiding. It's not fair to you or to me. I love you and I want to be able to..." she struggled to find the right words, fumbling over them as they fell off her tongue in a rush, "...show that love…you know, like the way Man-hands and Frankenteen sicken everyone with theirs." Brittany rolled her eyes but nodded so Santana continued. "You deserve someone who is going to love you openly, without restraint." She glanced briefly over to her silent observer who smiled.

She heaved a long, shakey sigh. "So, on Monday," she stared, running her hands down Brittany's arm until their fingers met and intertwined. "No more hiding."

Brittany's eyes widened. Santana smiled, but it changed to a wince. Her body was aching, having been in the same position for too long and her headache had returned. Brittany saw it and immediately pulled Santana into a loose embrace.

"You should be lying down. People who are hurt are always lying down. Come on." Brittany said, gently leading Santana to her bed. She helped Santana sit and quickly bent down to take off her sneakers before gently pulling her legs up on to the bed. Santana groaned as she slowly inched herself up to her pillow, exhaling loudly as she finally settled in. Brittany moved around the other side and climbed on to the bed as softly as possible, making sure not to jostle the injured girl. Once settled she propped herself up on her elbow and stared intently into Santana's eyes. She reached her hand out and traced the chemical burn that the airbag had left on the girl's jaw line. She swooped down and placed a soft butterfly kiss on top of the gauze pad that was gracing her forehead. "Are you sure you're all right?" She asked the exhausted girl, her voice small.

Santana nodded, the wheels in her mind turning as she spoke. "I am, I promise." She turned to face the blonde, her eyes full of hesitation. "But Britt…we're broken up still, right?"

Brittany's brows furrowed. "You don't want to get back together?"

"I do." Santana answered quickly, trying not to give Brittany the wrong idea. "I do. It's just…I think I want to do it the right way."

"What do you mean?"

"I think…I think I want to woo you." Santana whispered, a smile gracing her lips as she voiced the idea aloud. "You're special. You deserve to be treated like you're special. And I was a complete asshole if I ever made you feel like less than that."

"San, you didn't." Brittany protested quickly, but avoided eye contact.

"I did." Santana sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "But I'm done with all that. If the last twenty four hours have taught me anything, it's that we only get to live once. And we only have so much time to be happy. You know?" _There's a ticking clock over my head now. _ "And I wasted so much time being afraid. I don't want to be afraid to love you Brittany. That's the last thing I've ever wanted. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Brittany nodded but her eyes were unfocused like she was still catching up. "Not really."

Santana laughed softly before grabbing Brittany's hand and intertwining their fingers. "I want to ask you out on a date."

"A date?" Brittany echoed, smiling broadly. "A real date?"

"A real live totally legit, flowers, candy, pick you up, drive you home, date….except I'm not sure my father is going to let me drive after this."

"Are you serious?" Brittany nearly squealed.

The excitement the blonde exuded was contagious and soon Santana felt it swell within her stomach. "I am. Monday I'm storming out the closet and getting my girl."

Brittany squealed in delight again and nearly threw herself on top of Santana, pulling her into a hug. Santana bit her cheek to keep her groan in and just let herself melt into the blonde's embrace. Her eyes traveled to the silent figure in the room and she sighed. He would always be around now wouldn't he? Encouraging her but reminding her. There was happiness to be had, but only for so long.

She only had so long.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Sorry for the delay. Life gets in the way of things we enjoy the most. That and I can't seem to tear myself away from some of the amazing stories posted on this site. Having a smartphone is the best/worst thing ever. Enjoy. **_

**Chapter 7**

**Monday October 3****rd****, 2011. **

Santana took one last look in her mirror before sighing in defeat. Despite numerous attempts to conceal her slightly mangled features, the bruises to her face remained prominent. Though her body wasn't as stiff (thankfully to the wonder of youth) and she resized the bandage on her head, she still looked pretty banged up. It didn't matter though, as long as Brittany would have her.

Brittany stayed all of Saturday and most of Sunday before her parents begged her to come home. They spent the rest of the weekend in Santana's bed, snuggling, cuddling, sleeping, or watching television. Brittany doted on Santana the entire time, making sure she took her medication when she needed to, and getting her food and water whenever she asked. Though Santana put on a stubborn front, insisting that she didn't need help, it felt nice to be taken care of.

Quinn had called and came for a visit once she was informed that Santana had indeed been in the accident and promised to spread the word to the glee clubbers so Santana wouldn't be overwhelmed when she showed up on Monday. Santana came out to her within minutes of seeing her.

"_I'm gay…and in love with Brittany." Santana said, looking over at Brittany who squeezed her hand and smiled. _

_Quinn rolled her eyes but smiled. "I kind of figured that out when I caught you guys going at it in my parents' guest bedroom last year."_

"_Fuck you Fabray." Santana shouted while laughing slightly, throwing a pillow at the blonde. "It needed to be said out loud." _

_Quinn nodded, smiling even wider this time. "So…is this a secret I'm supposed to be keeping or—"_

"_Yes." Santana answered before looking over at Brittany. "But only until Monday at Glee. Then, I'm telling everyone. You were like…a dress rehearsal."_

_Quinn quirked her eyebrow and deadpanned, "I don't know whether to be happy or offended."_

"_Happy!" Brittany answered for them, bouncing lightly on the bed. Santana smiled and pulled the blonde close, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. _

"_Not that anyone will be surprised." Quinn stated, putting her hands up defensively when another pillow sailed by her head. "But I'm glad you're finally doing this Santana, really. I know that it's hard but we'll support you no matter what."_

"_Thanks Q." Santana whispered, opening her arms to the shorter blonde. Quinn gently hugged Santana and both girls laughed when Brittany dove in, wrapping her arms around both of them. _

Her father had called incessantly but once Santana explained she had a "caretaker" in Brittany he stopped, and had just come home a few short hours ago to get some sleep before taking another shift at the hospital. She hadn't heard from her mother.

And despite that one incident when she first came home, the entity who was Death hadn't shown his face the whole weekend.

Her phone began to vibrate with a message and Santana looked at it, smiling.

_**I'm almost there.—Brittany**_

Santana replied before shoving her phone into her purse and heading downstairs. When she reached the kitchen, she jumped.

He was there, smoking a cigarette, leaning against the counter by the stove. "Good morning." He greeted and Santana scowled.

"Just when I thought it was safe to enter my kitchen…"

He looked unfazed. "I am here to offer my support to you. I know what you plan on doing today and I applaud it. Every time a secret is shared, the weight of the burden is lifted and the soul becomes lighter. A heavy soul is hard to guide."

"Well then Zizes should be a real riot when she kicks it."

Death exhaled his cigarette smoke and shrugged. "Lauren Zizes is an open book. She is who she is and is happy for it. You could learn something from her."

"Like how to eat a pound cake in under a minute?" Santana snarked, but immediately felt bad. Sure, Lauren was a bitch to her, but only because she had been the bitch first. It was true; Lauren was the most confident and self-assured teenager she had ever met. Santana chalked it up to Lauren's ability to wipe the floor with just about anybody she came into contact with, (she had wiped the floor thanks to Zizes and her super human strength once before and would not rush to experience it again,) but it hadn't made the fact any less true. Lauren Zizes was one of a kind, and totally fine with it.

Death made no move to scold Santana, but instead took a long drag from his cigarette, waiting patiently for her to speak. Santana merely moved around him, searching the counter for her notebook. "Where did I put…you know what? Why am I even bothering with school? If I have only three months to live, why am I going to waste it on sitting in nasty, hard chairs and listening to boring ass teachers?"

Death shrugged again. "I cannot tell you how to live the remainder of your life. I can only encourage you to spend your time wisely. If you wish to be with Brittany, you are going to have to go to school and continue life as you would have had I not revealed my plans. Your daily routine shouldn't be interrupted. Besides, the one joy in your life that you refuse to hide is your love of song and dance. That club that is so wisely referred to as 'Glee' is the one place you allow yourself to be happy. Why remove yourself from it?"

He had a point. Still, Santana rolled her eyes and scoffed. "It's not like I'd have a valid reason to drop out anyway. What am I gonna say, 'Death told me I'm gonna die soon and I don't wanna waste my life in school?' That'll get me 72 hours in the psych ward and a Thorazine drip faster than my mother can say 'trust fund.'"

"I agree. It would be in vain. Several mortals that I have visited over the centuries have tried and ended up institutionalized…burned, hanged or worse. Mortals can't seem to grasp the concept that I am both an entity and occurrence."

Santana couldn't help the irritation her voice oozed. "I can't seem to grasp the fact that I'm listening to you at all. You talk like you should be wearing a top hat and carrying a cane, you look like Johnny Cash with a pigment condition, and you dress like its casual Friday at the funeral home."

Death looked down at his outfit and shrugged once more. "My appearance has more to do with your subconscious than anything else. What you perceive me to be is how I appear to you."

"If that were true you'd be a woman…a hot woman. A smokin', fine, Brooklyn Decker-looking hot mama with —"

"Santana?" Brittany called to her and Santana spun. The blonde stood in the doorway, looking confused and concerned.

"Britt!" She chirped breathlessly. "When did you get here?"

"I got here a little while ago and tried to call but you didn't answer." Brittany explained, stepping closer to the brunette. "I heard you talking…who were you talking to?" She looked around the room, curious.

"No one." Santana answered quickly. "Myself. I must be going crazy. Guess the hobbit is wearing off on me huh?" She laughed nervously.

"Are you sure you should go to school today?" Brittany asked, resting her hand against Santana's upper arm. She looked genuinely concerned. "You just got out of the hospital on Saturday."

Santana nodded, swallowing thickly. She wanted to kiss Brittany then, so badly, but HE was still there. Still watching. "If I don't go today I might lose my nerve." She whispered her face just inches from Brittany's. "And I can't do that to you again."

"Okay." Brittany whispered, rubbing Santana's arm a little before disconnecting from her and leaving for the front door.

Santana closed her eyes and exhaled, calming herself for a moment before turning to grab her purse. He stood next to her with her notebook in his hand, smiling. She snatched it from him and huffed, "Wanna do me a favor and not show up in school today? I don't think I could handle it."

"I make no promises." He answered before disappearing from sight.

Santana merely rolled her eyes and walked toward the door where Brittany was patiently waiting, a small smile gracing her lips. Santana's heartbeat quickened like it did every time Brittany smiled, even for one as slight as that. Acting on impulse, now that he was gone, Santana leaned forward and met Brittany's lips with her own in a quiet, chaste kiss. She hoped that it wasn't too forward, now that she was trying to do right by her girlfriend. They were technically still broken up, at Santana's request, so that they might start fresh. When they parted Brittany's smile had grown wider and her eyes were twinkling, crushing any fears that Santana had. "What?" Santana asked, linking pinkies with the blonde.

"You just kissed me in front of the whole neighborhood." Brittany stated, smiling widely as she gently swung their hands back and forth.

Santana sighed, looking around. She had, and even though there was no one in sight, a little voice in the back of her mind had screamed for her to panic and look wildly around just to make sure they hadn't been seen. She pushed it back, however, trying to be brave. If she was going to come out then she was going to have to get used to public displays of affection. They were part of the deal.

And she was going to come out. She was coming out because she simply couldn't put it off any longer. If she was going to spend the rest of her (short) life loving Brittany, she was going to do it openly. Plus, the smile that graced Brittany's lips more than made up for any of the negative thoughts she had.

"I did. And that's just the beginning babe."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

When they finally reached school Brittany couldn't contain her excitement. She bounced with every step beside Santana, distracting her from all of the stares they she'd been getting from students who had heard about her accident. News traveled quickly within the confines of McKinley High, especially with people like Jacob Ben Israel.

"Santana," he greeted in his usual shaky voice, shoving his microphone in her face, "is it true you were almost killed in a horrific car crash this past Friday?"

Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest while Brittany pouted. "Yes, Jewfro, I got into a car accident, but I wasn't almost killed. I'm here aren't I?"

"Which leads me to my next question: Are you a zombie?" Jacob asked seriously, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "Because according to the pole I posted on my blog, 66% of my followers believe that you came back from the dead."

"I'm no zombie powderpuff," Santana sneered, her eyes squinting dangerously, "but I will rip a chunk outcha arm if you don't get that microphone out of my-"

"San," Brittany warned, placing her hand on Santana's forearm, instantly calming her. "Don't. It's not good for your head."

Santana huffed, shoving her way past Jacob with a grumbled "Whatevs," before heading for her locker. "Fucking asshole." She quickly rolled through her combination and wrenched the locker open, throwing her books inside. She felt Brittany's eyes gazing at her and took a deep breath. Here she was, getting angry over the littlest things again. There was no reason for it. Jacob liked to push buttons; he knew what made a watchable video. Santana was just glad that Brittany was there to calm her down before she did something she would regret later. After retrieving her notebook she closed the locker gently. "Sorry Britt."

"It's okay." Brittany whispered, smiling. "His head looks like a big Jewish cloud but his mouth is like…a thunderstorm."

Santana smiled, holding out her pinky. "I like that." They wandered down the nearly empty hallway, lost in their own world. "You know what else I like?" Santana asked, and Brittany looked over at her expectantly. "You."

Brittany bumped shoulders with the shorter girl. "You love me."

"Okay," Santana conceded, laughing. "I love you."

While sitting in Math her mind began to wander back to the conversation she had with Death while she was still in the hospital.

"_Well, then, what are you going to do about it?"_

_Santana sighed. "I don't know. She was really upset, and she has every right to be." She focused her attentions toward a loose thread in her blanket, picking at it with her nails. "I've never seen her so mad."_

_Death moved to sit beside the girl on her bed, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I know love. I've spent centuries watching it blossom and wilt like flowers during the changing of the seasons. I know eternity yet I believe in the idea of everlasting love, and do you know why?"_

_Santana looked up and caught his gaze, losing herself in his fantastic violet irises, in the way they glimmered brightly even in the low light. "Why?" _

"_Because it does exist. Mortals die. Every day. Their souls exit their bodies the way a butterfly leaves a cocoon. It is a transformation. With their body they leave the sense of touch, shedding it like a snake would shed its skin. They cannot feel anything in the literal sense, hence the reason a soul or a spirit cannot make physical contact with the body. Emotions, however, are completely different. They remain with the soul after death. Happiness, Sadness, Regret, Anger, Love. These remain with the soul because they are tied to it, and they can either weigh the soul down or they can lift it like wings and help it soar. Out of all of these emotions, love is the strongest. It can either lift a person to the 'heavens' as you say, or it can anchor their spirit to this world until the ones they long for join them. Either way, love remains." _

_Santana inhaled deeply, soaking in his words. "Love remains."_

_He nodded, reaching out to place his hand on her knee. She flinched for a moment before allowing it. "Your love for Brittany will either tie you to this plain or bring you to new spiritual heights. It is your choice. And Brittany's love for you is ever-present, and ever-lasting. She is not one to falter, despite her anger."_

"_But what do I do to make her see that I do love her the way she loves me? I've told her countless times. It's not enough anymore."_

"_Well, then, maybe you need to show her. You mortals are always coming up with elaborate ways to win one another's affections. Woo her. Take her to dinners. Buy her presents. Sing to her. Do whatever you think you must to show her that your love is as strong as hers. It will bring you joy to know how special she will feel, how happy you make her, and she will return it." _

_Santana looked unsure. She'd never really "dated" anyone. Puck was a friends-with-benefits fling. Finn was a one-time deal. Sam was a disaster and Karofsky was a ruse. Brittany was her best friend and the only girl she'd ever been with, and while at first it started off as casual sex, it had turned into something more without her realizing it. The summer was spent in bed practically, punctuated by occasional outings within group settings. There were no dates. They were rarely seen in public alone together._

_Death was right though. She had to show Brittany how much she meant to her, before it was too late. "Woo her?"_

_His voice was firm and reassuring. "Woo her."_

Santana skipped her fifth period class to get a surprise for Brittany, which she deftly placed in the girl's locker just before the bell rang. Brittany skipped towards the brunette happily, stopping inches from the girl. "Hey, you look like you did something bad."

Santana grinned mischievously because usually Brittany would be right. "Not this time babe. At least, I hope it isn't bad."

Brittany moved to open her locker, eyeing Santana suspiciously. "Should I be nervous? Did I put dirt in my locker again?"

Santana shook her head. "That was Coach Sylvester." She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "Just open your locker Britt."

Brittany made a confused but excited face at Santana, tilting her head a bit as her eyebrow twitched. Finally she reached the correct combination and the lock snapped open. When she opened her locker she gasped. There was a bouquet of wild flowers and a small stuffed animal in the shape of a duck inside her locker. She slowly pulled them out, her eyes still wide. "Are these for me?"

Santana nodded happily.

Britt looked from her presents to her girlfriend and back again. "From you?"

Santana shrugged, pretending to study her manicure. "I don't know. What does the card say?"

Brittany spun the flowers. She hadn't even realized there was a card attached to them. Placing the duck under her arm she pulled the card out of the envelope and read it aloud.

**_I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before._**

**_S._**

"Oh San," Brittany said breathlessly, tears coming to her eyes.

"I told you Britt, I want to do this right. I want to woo you. I want you to feel special." She reached up to grab one of Brittany's hands, squeezing it softly. "So will you go out on a date with me?"

Brittany nodded. "All you had to do was ask."

Both girls smiled at each other, linking pinkies once again. Santana felt lighter than air. She had never felt more sure of herself than when Brittany was smiling at her. The late bell rang, snapping the girls from their reverie. For a moment Santana's stomach turned.

They had Glee this period.

Brittany, still managing to handle her presents while holding Santana's pinky, began to pull the girl toward the choir room. "Come on S, we're late."

Santana let herself be pulled by the blonde, trying her best to keep the smile on her face. Her heart was racing so much she could hear her pulse in her ears. Everyone was already seated and Mr. Schuster was saying something when the girls rounded the corner into the room. All eyes were on them. Mr. Schu turned, smiling.

"Sorry we're late." Brittany said and Santana was grateful, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her suddenly very dry mouth.

"That's okay…wow Brittany." Will said, gesturing toward her gifts.

"Damn girl," Mercedes greeted. "Looks like you got a secret admirer."

Brittany looked over at Santana, who was trying not to let her panic show. "Not really."

"So what'd you have to sell to get her those Art," Puck voiced, lightly shoving the wheelchair bound teen on his shoulder.

"I-I didn't. That wasn't me." Artie answered in his usual awkward way.

"Hey Santana." Quinn greeted, and it seemed like the club had finally noticed her presence.

"How are you feeling?" Will asked, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I-I'm fine." Santana mumbled, unconsciously bringing a hand to the small bandage on her forehead. She had almost completely forgotten about the accident. "No biggie." Her eyes followed Brittany who took an empty seat in the front row, leaving her up in front of the club alone. "But," she started, her voice breaking slightly under the emotional pressure. "I-I kinda want to say something, real quick."

Will studied Santana for a second before extending his hands and giving her the floor. "It's all yours."

"What's up Lopez?" Puck called to her.

Santana stood frozen, rooted to the linoleum tile beneath her feet. She quickly scanned the crowd of her teammates…of her friends…and studied their faces. Kurt was leaning forward, his mouth slightly turned upward, as he waited for Santana to speak. She could feel the rumor mill of his mind turning, waiting for the next juicy story. Mercedes looked slightly annoyed, but that was common. Mike and Tina stared blankly at her. Puck looked expectant while Lauren looked bored. Sam was looking at his shoes. Finn looked dazed, but he always looked dazed. Rachel sat with her arms crossed, slightly tapping her foot. She was beginning to lose patience. Artie looked worried. Quinn looked amused. She scanned their faces one by one, her panic and hesitation growing with each pair of eyes she met.

When Santana's gaze found Brittany's she immediately relaxed. Brittany's eyes were filled with so much excitement and happiness and love that Santana couldn't help but feel the same. "I'm gay." She announced fairly softly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Wha…" Puck began but Lauren put her hand up, stopping him.

"I'm gay." She said again, this time a bit louder and more confidently. "And I'm in love with Brittany." She said, smiling at the blonde, who was beaming in her seat.

"Oh hell to tha no!" Mercedes said, more as an expression of excitement rather than a statement of protest.

"Are you serious?" Finn asked, completely stunned. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Yes." Santana answered, dipping her head a little in reservation.

"I knew it!" Kurt exclaimed, smiling warmly at his fellow club member. "My gaydar has been screaming about you since that song with Miss Holliday."

"Dude…." Sam expelled in a long breath. "I had sex with a lesbian."

"Me too." Finn said, turning to face Sam.

"Hell yeah," Puck shouted. "Join the club." He said to both Finn and Sam, raising his hand for a high five. Lauren elbowed him and he immediately put his hand down. "Ouch babe, not so hard."

Santana swallowed thickly. "I know that I haven't been the best person to any of you, but if you could just do me this one thing and not tell anyone—"

"Don't worry," Mercedes answered. "We won't tell."

Kurt quickly followed. "Not a word will be breathed until you and Brittany are ready."

Tina nodded her head in agreement, smiling widely. "Our lips are sealed."

The rest of the club nodded, with one exception, but Santana chose to ignore the stoic wheelchair-bound senior. She knew he was going to be upset. "Thank you." Santana exhaled, tears coming to her eyes. Brittany was right. Then again, Brittany was always right. Everyone was being incredibly accepting and supportive.

Quinn gave the furiously blushing Santana a thumbs up just before Rachel stood. "Well, now that the proverbial not-so-secret cat is out of that bag, can we get to the songs we're supposed to sing for sectionals? I have a few ideas."

Will tried to follow Rachel's lead and reel the club back in. "That's an excellent suggestion Rachel." He stood and moved toward the former Cheerio. "Santana, thank you for that. That took a lot of courage and I'm honored that you chose to share it with everyone in here."

"Thanks Mr. Schu." Santana answered sincerely before moving to take a seat next to Brittany, who was glowing with pride.

When she sat down Brittany grabbed her hand and brought it to her lips for a quick kiss. "I'm so proud of you babe. You did it."

Santana nodded, feeling better than she had in months, years even. "And I have you to thank for it. I love you." She reached her pinky out, intertwining it with the blonde's pinky, marveling at how perfect everything felt.

"I love you too."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned. It's been far too long since my last update. :) Forgive my Spanish as well. I know not what I write.**_

**Chapter 8**

**Friday October 7th, 2011. 7:45 a.m.**

Things had been going incredibly well this week. Santana had been steadily courting Brittany every day: offering to carry her books and walk her to classes they didn't have together, leaving little surprises in her locker, and being especially attentive to her. Brittany was ecstatic, to say the least, and incredibly grateful for every romantic gesture. So grateful, in fact, that Santana found herself in the janitor's closet more than once that week for very, very intense make-out sessions that could've gone further had she not stopped them. Santana didn't want to ruin the momentum that they had going and wanted to show Brittany that she thought she was more than a fling in the closet between periods. (Not that she was complaining because it was really, really fun.) The "old" Santana wouldn't have minded, but this was the "new" Santana. The new Santana didn't take advantage of her girl like that.

She was healing properly, which was nice. The stitches in her forehead were due to come out after school. The bruise on her chest was healing, even though it looked ugly still. Her body was back to its normal, limber self, and her mood had brightened considerably.

And Death had only shown up twice, once to congratulate her on coming out to her friends in the glee club, and once to give her advice on what else she could do to impress her girlfriend. She was glad that he had visited so infrequently, because it gave her a chance to forget (for a moment) that she only had until the end of the year to spend with Brittany. Being reminded of that depressed her immensely, but it also strengthened her resolve to face her fears head on.

Which apparently was happening today.

The day had started off well enough. She woke up before her alarm, took a nice long hot shower, got her hair to fall just right, and even had a banging outfit that she'd been dying to wear since last week. She actually had a conversation with her father that didn't include yelling but did include planning a trip to the car dealership this weekend and talked him into loaning her the car for the evening. The day was shaping up to be one of the best days of her life.

Until now.

"Santana!" Jacob Ben Israel greeted, shoving his microphone so close to her face it actually bumped against her nose. "Word in the hallway this morning is that you are a full-on, two tight fitting plaid shirts away from a mullet, lesbian, who just happens to be dating the third most beautiful girl in this school, Brittany Pierce. Third behind the amazing Rachel Berry and yourself. Is this true?"

"Ah…uh…" Santana stumbled, her voice breaking in an unnatural squeak. "Uh. Who-"

"I cannot reveal my source but a certain someone…let's call him…Bartie Babrams…confirmed that you, in fact, stormed out of the closet at Glee Club on Monday. So, is it true?"

Santana squinted, feeling her blood boiling beneath her skin. _I'll kill him._ "No comment." She pushed past him, walking down the hall at a frighteningly quick pace.

"Can I take that as a yes?" Jacob shouted at her as she rushed down the hallway.

Walking in a blind panic really didn't do much for one's sense of direction and before Santana knew it she was standing in the darkened janitor's closet, hyperventilating. She looked wildly around the small space, searching for something, anything, to break, when a voice called out from behind her.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Sorry Mr. Kidney-" Santana started, turning to face the old man, ready to explain that she just couldn't be out there at the moment when she realized it wasn't the old man at all. "Oh great."

Death smiled. "You do realize that his name is not 'Kidney,' correct? It is, in fact, Kidnesky, and became shortened to Kidney, through a series of well placed rumors and a fading embroidered name on his uniform."

Santana shook her head. "I don't give a shit what his name is!" She backed further into the small space, bumping up against the shelves against the back wall. "Do you know what's going on out there?"

Death turned and opened the door. "Students are currently walking to their classes. Everything looks as it should."

"Don't play dumb!" Santana hissed as he closed the door and turned back to her. "You know what that giant afro-ed idiot asked me! I'm going to push Wheels down a flight of stairs when I find him."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door, unimpressed. "In my opinion, you should thank the young man."

"Are you insane?"

"Think, for a moment, about how long it would take Brittany to wonder why you were so confident to come out to your friends, but unwilling to expose your secret to everyone else. While I realize that things that frighten you are difficult to face, you do remember that you are pressed for time, correct?"

"How could I forget when you're always around, shoving it down my fucking throat?" Santana snapped at him, flailing her arms wildly in anger. "My life is like an hourglass and the sand just keeps pouring out of it. I. GET. IT."

"And yet here you are. Hiding. Letting miniscule occurrences stand between you and happiness."

"It's not miniscule, goddammit! It's not! It's MY LIFE! My reputation! And Brittany's! What do you think people are going to say? What do you think they are going to do? Not just to me but to Brittany too. She's so sweet and innocent and loves everybody! She wouldn't be able to handle what they would say and do to her."

"Well," Death pondered, "have you ever given her a chance to?"

"What?"

"Have you ever given Brittany a chance to prove you wrong? Have you ever considered that by allowing yourself to defend Brittany at any given moment, you are undermining her ability to defend herself?"

Santana squinted, really considering the idea. _I have been protecting her since we were five. But fuck it if I don't do a damn good job._ "Listen, I've been protecting Brittany since we met. I'm not about to stop now."

"That is not what I am suggesting." Death reasoned. "What I am advising is that you allow Brittany the chance to stand up for herself for once. After all, what is she going to do during those moments you aren't around?" He stepped closer to Santana and put a hand on her shoulder.

Santana jumped at his touch. "Your hands are always so fucking cold! I can't stand it!"

He retracted his hand. "My apologies Santana." He stepped back a few inches, giving her some space. "Now, do you intend on hiding in this," he looked around, "closet for the rest of the day?"

_I've been hiding "in the closet" for most of my high school career. What's one more day? No! NO Santana! No more hiding._ Santana huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "No. I should probably find Britt before someone else does."

"That would be wise. You could face your fears together. I've observed that mortals find the courage to handle stressful and frightening things when they aren't alone."

Santana huffed and rolled her eyes. "No shit." She uncrossed her arms. "Are you gonna let me out or what?"

Death shrugged and opened the door. "I am not stopping you." Then, he was gone.

_Sometimes I feel like Alice and he's the Cheshire Fucking Cat._ Santana shook her head and stepped out into the deserted hallway, looking around. She dipped into her jacket pocket and brought out her cell phone, checking the time. _No point in even trying to make it to first period now._ She rounded the corner, heading toward the girls' restroom when she spotted a very familiar blonde strolling lazily down the hallway. Even just taking in the dancer's form quieted the rage swelling within her. Smiling, she quietly snuck up behind her girlfriend and put her hands over her eyes. "Guess who?"

"I hate this game." Brittany sighed. "I never get it right."

Santana stretched to her tip-toes and kissed the girl beneath her ear before whispering, "I'll give you a hint. Nobody loves you like I do."

Brittany smiled. "Lord Tubbington." Santana sighed, letting her hands fall to her sides as Brittany turned to her. "Oh, San! Hey! I'm glad you're here; I got so lost looking for my history class. For a minute I thought I was alone." She greeted happily, kissing her girlfriend quickly on the lips. "Where'd you come from?"

Santana's smile fell. "The janitor's closet."

Brittany offered a half-smile. "What were you doing in there? Were we supposed to meet in there this morning because I don't remember—"

Santana shook her head and grabbed Brittany's hand, silencing her. "Nah. I just…ended up there."

"Oh." Brittany searched the girl's face for further explanation. "Why?"

"Listen, Britt…" Santana started, leading the girl from the middle of the hallway and over to the lockers. "Everyone knows about us."

"I know. You told everyone on Monday."

Santana nodded. "I mean **everyone** Brittany. The whole school knows."

Brittany's face fell. "Oh." She grabbed Santana's other hand and clasped them together. "Are you okay?"

Santana heaved a sigh and nodded. "I had a mini freak out, but I'm good."

Brittany looked unconvinced. "So we're not going on our date anymore?"

"What?" Santana shouted, vigorously shaking her head. "No, of course we are. I'm totally taking you out tonight." She pulled Brittany close and pecked her on the lips again. "I'm with you now. For good. I promise."

"What's wrong then?" Brittany whispered, now that they were standing so close. "You're all nervous."

"I-I just want to make sure that you're gonna be okay. God knows what the losers and homophobes in this stupid friggen school-"

Brittany kissed Santana, cutting her off. When they pulled apart, she spoke. "I don't care. As long as you're with me, I don't care. Besides, I have you to protect me right?"

Santana nodded. "I promise I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you stay safe." Her voice wavered as her conversation with Death seeped into her mind. "But Britt…what…what about those times that I'm not there to protect you?"

Brittany scoffed. "What are you talking about San? You're always there. And now that we're together you'll always be there right?"

It took all of her effort to swallow the lump in her throat before she answered. "Y-yeah. But…but what if I have to go away or if I get sick and stay home or something happens? What will you do then?" Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes and she willed them back for fear of having to explain them should they fall.

Brittany seemed to contemplate Santana's words very carefully, biting her lower lip before choosing her answer. "Well you never really go anywhere and you almost never get sick but if something does happen and you're not here, I can protect myself. Remember when I saved Charity from that mean, vicious dog?"

Santana smiled. The 'vicious dog' was the Pierce's neighbor's Yorkie, and Charity had started it, hissing at the dog and trying to scratch it from the other side of the fence. "Yeah I remember. Are you sure?" Santana asked, her voice wavering behind her emotions.

"Totally…but it's not like anything is going to happen right? We'll always be together. And we have Glee club and they can protect us too."

Santana nodded. She had forgotten about Glee club. The way they rallied around Kurt last year was miraculous. Everyone banded together despite their differences and disagreements. Even though Kurt wouldn't accept it and ultimately removed himself from school and that horrible situation with Karofsky, everyone was more than willing to protect him, Santana included. Santana realized that maybe they would be okay, as long as they had the club to support them. She didn't really care about herself, but she knew that everyone loved Brittany and would gladly protect her at a moment's notice. It made her feel a little better. "Thank you…you always know what to say to make me feel better."

"That's cuz I know you better than anyone." Brittany answered, pushing Santana on the nose with her index finger like a button.

Santana laughed lightly and smiled. "You do." She sighed, pulling her girlfriend into a tight embrace. "You really do."

The shrill sound of the bell filled and echoed down the hallways, signaling the end of first period. Students quickly trickled out of their classrooms, filing into the hallways on their journey to the next class. Brittany watched Santana stiffen in front of her as a flock of girls walked past them, whispering and laughing to themselves. She scanned the hallway, spotting eyes on her as people watched them interact. It made her feel weird but it wasn't affecting her the way it was her girlfriend.

Santana closed her eyes, squared her jaw and tried to even out her breathing. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, judging her and Brittany. She could hear their hushed laughter and their whispers. "_….together…..lesbians….dykes….disgusting….so gross….weird….hot…..nasty…." _ Santana opened her eyes to look at Brittany. She could tell the girl could hear them too, but on her face was a look of determination, as if she were trying hard to block the judgment out, to block the hateful words out. Her blue eyes were ablaze with a strength that Santana had never seen, and in that instant, she fell even more in love.

Brittany was willing to endure this embarrassment, this harassment, these looks and whispers for her. It took until this moment for Santana to realize it, but it was true. And if Brittany could do it, so could she.

As a group of young Cheerios walked by, two girls pointed and whispered in each other's ear before shooting Santana and Brittany disgusted looks. Santana snapped. "What the fuck are you putas looking at? No se ven demasiado tiempo putas. Soy como Medusa. Me dirigiré a stone."** She shouted, walking toward them, waving her arm dramatically as she threatened them. The girls froze in fright, having never properly incurred the wrath of Santana before. One girl visibly paled and the other gulped as she zeroed in on them. Before she could get within arm-swinging length, however, an arm looped around her waist, stopping her.

"Easy Spanish Cujo." Puck chuckled into her ear. "Last thing you need is to be suspended for stomping on some poor Juniors."

As the potential victims ran down the hall Santana called after them. "That's right run! If I catch you looking at me or Brittany again I'll take your eyes out!" She struggled against Puck's grip until the girls were out of sight before relaxing. Brittany was at her side in an instant. "Sorry Britt." She mumbled, looking regretfully at the taller girl, who frowned at her.

"You shouldn't let them get to you like that."

"She's right." Puck stated. "What are you gonna do? Beat the shit out of everyone?" At Santana's glare he put his hands up and laughed. "Not that I think you couldn't."

"Damn straight I could." Santana mumbled, leaning into Brittany's waiting embrace. She sighed. "The whole school knows about us Puck. It's only gonna get worse."

"I heard. But you don't hafta worry. I gotcha back lesbro." Puck stated, bumping his elbow into Santana's arm.

"What did you just call me?" Santana asked, halfway between confused and irritated.

"Lesbro. I always wanted one of those."

"You're weird." Brittany deadpanned, regarding Puck with suspicious eyes.

Santana chuckled. "Amen."

"Whatever. But seriously, I got you and Britt. So does Lauren. And most of the club." He outstretched his arms and wrapped them around both girls in a giant bear hug. "The Puckster's got you covered."

"Thanks." Santana wheezed, her air being constricted by Puck's massive arms. "I think. You can let go now." When Puck released Santana exhaled, closing her eyes and running a nervous hand through her hair. She looked up at Brittany and then to Puck, smiling at their concerned expressions. "I'll be okay. It wasn't all that terrible. Besides, I'm still Head Bitch in Charge, except now I got my beautiful girl by my side." She looped an arm around Brittany's waist and pulled her closer, smiling as she swooned.

"Hell yeah." Puck said, clapping Santana on the back. "Come on, let's cut second and grab a smoke under the bleachers." Santana and Brittany looked to one another and rolled their eyes, knowing full well that Puck will be the only one smoking. They follow him anyway.

As they wandered down the hallways, deftly avoiding the security guard and hall monitors, Santana wondered how long it would take the student body to move on from her current "outing." She wondered how bad things would get, and whether or not she and Brittany would be able to overcome it. She also wondered about whether or not to let Brittany in on the fact that Artie had blown their cover. Santana knew that it was out of jealousy and spite, but she was sure Artie's judgment wasn't so clouded as to risk Brittany's well-being. She'd have to ask him later...at Glee.

In front of everyone.

_**Confrontation? I think so. I like Artie but sometimes he's spiteful. That's how I figure him to be anyway. Don't worry though. He ain't all bad.**_

**Translation: "Don't look too long bitches. I'm like Medusa. I'll turn you to stone."


	10. Chapter 10

_**I apologize for the delay. Life has been decidedly unfair to me, leaving my mind completely exhausted. In, other news, I have seen Season 3 of "Glee" and so far I enjoy it. My story, of course, is not keeping with anything that's happened on the show s far, but that's okay. If it were, that'd either be one heck of a coincidence or I'd have a job as a writer for an awesome show. **_

**_Enjoy._**

**Chapter 9**

Halfway through Puck's second cigarette, Santana's nerves had gotten the best of her. While heading for the bleachers she debated whether telling Brittany about Artie's betrayal would be the best idea. Despite the fact that she hated Artie for several reasons, she knew her girlfriend still liked the boy and considered him a friend. Santana was fuming inside though, and could barely suppress it. It took everything she had not to punch the metal rod holding up the seats above her. Brittany and Puck were sitting on either side of her, forming a small circle, completely oblivious to the internal scream Santana was emitting. Tension radiated from her body in waves but neither seemed to notice, too wrapped up in whatever stupid joke they were both laughing at.

It was only when Brittany noticed that Santana wasn't laughing too that she tuned in to her girlfriend's emotions. "You all right San?" She asked, placing a calming hand on her forearm.

Santana chewed her lip, eyeing the pack of cigarettes in Puck's lap. "Can I have one?" She finally asked, after a few seconds of silence.

Both Puck and Brittany's eye brows raised simultaneously in surprise. "Are you serious?" Puck asked, his mouth twisting into a mischievous grin.

"But San, you hate smoking." Brittany pouted.

Santana shrugged. It was true. Aside from the occasional cigar to enhance her throaty vocals, she hated smoking. She had seen enough dying patients while volunteering at the hospital to recognize the consequences of long term cigarette addiction. Last year she had even yelled at Brittany for having a cigarette with Puck at one of his parties. Brittany had reasoned that it made the alcohol taste better but Santana would have none of it. She practically ripped the butt from Brittany's mouth and pulled the pack from Puck's grasp, crushing it before throwing it in his mother's pool. She fought with Puck for three hours that night and ignored Brittany for the rest of the evening. It was the first and only time Santana ever called Brittany "stupid" and she hated herself for it afterwards, but she knew that Brittany would never go near another cigarette again.

When they made up a day later, Santana had told Brittany that cigarettes lined the path to an early grave, and that she wanted to make sure that they grew old together. If she knew then...but no, she still wanted Brittany healthy.

"Just gimme a friggen cigarette." Santana snapped before grabbing the back from Puck's lap. She used her nails to pull one from the opening and looked it over before pressing it to her mouth. "Lighter." She ordered, her voice muffled as she tried to balance the butt between her lips.

Puck absently handed his lighter over and both he and Brittany watched in awe as Santana lit the tip and inhaled, taking a long drag before exhaling with a sigh. "Shit." She sighed, feeling her head swim slightly. She calmed almost instantly.

"God damn Lopez." Puck finally voiced, laughing slightly. "You didn't even hack or anything." He leaned in slightly. "And you look so fucking sexy right now." He immediately put his hands up in defense, laughing again when both Brittany and Santana swatted at him. "Just saying!"

"What's going on Santana?" Brittany asked, her face etched with concern. "We made a promise to each other to never smoke."

"I'm sorry. I know, I'm sorry." Santana huffed, taking another long drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke work its way into her lungs and seep into her brain, dulling her senses before exhaling again. She pulled the butt from her lips and crushed the lit tip against the metal rod beside her before throwing it in the grass. "I just needed to try it. I'm so…" She looked down, fiddling with her forefinger nail before looking up at Brittany. "I know who outed us to Jacob Ben Israel."

"No shit. Who was it?" Puck asked, flicking his own cigarette into the grass. "Whose ass do I have to kick?"

Santana spared a glance Puck's way before turning her attentions back to Brittany. "It was Artie." She watched as confusion marred Brittany's features for a moment before realization with the slightest bit of anger. "Jewfro told me so. I'm sorry Britt."

"Why the fuck are you apologizing?" Puck asked, standing and shoving the pack in his back pocket. "Artie should be apologizing, to the both of you."

"Why would he do that?" Brittany asked as she and Santana stood.

Santana shrugged. She knew exactly why Artie outed them but she wasn't going to give an explanation to her girlfriend. Artie should be the one to explain. Dusting off the back of her pants, Santana sighed. "I have to get to class. I can't cut another one." She pulled Brittany close and planted a firm but chaste kiss on her lips, ignoring Puck's low whistle. "I'll see you in Glee."

By the time fifth period ended Santana's anger had lost some of its steam. That little voice in the back of her head that she used to ignore when she did something rash had echoed all morning that Artie was just upset and jealous. Could she really blame him? When Brittany and Artie first got together Santana purposely broke them up out of anger and jealousy. Why should she expect any different?

As she wandered down the hallway, lost in her thoughts, Santana didn't notice a large hulking form step in front of her. It wasn't until she felt the sharp sting of ice water hit her face that she snapped from her wonderings. She kept her eyes closed and felt her entire body deflate. _Get used to it. This is your life from now on._

"It's grape. Figured if you were gonna be a dyke you might like wearing purple." Azimio's familiar voice echoed in her ears, followed by what she guessed was a high-five from Karofsky, who stood beside his friend, silent. "It's a shame you decided to go lezzie on us Lopez. I was set on tappin' dat this year."

Feeling her anger rise again, Santana spit the cold sugar-water from her lips and cracked one eye open, spinning around to face the boys' retreating forms. "It's not something I decided, asshole." She ran a hand across her face, trying to clear some of the slushy away so she could open her other eye. "But based on what I've heard about you, I'm not missing anything special."

Karofsky and Azimio stopped and turned. Some curious onlookers in the hallway whipped their heads between the boys and Santana, wondering what was going to happen next. "I've been performing all summer, and I haven't had any complaints." Azimio gloated while running a hand up and down his chest.

Santana sighed as she watched Karofsky and Azimio high-five one another again. Santana shared a look with Dave. What had happened? They'd been making such progress last year. What happened to cause such a drastic backslide? As Santana stared into the hard, tired eyes of the man she considered somewhat of a kindred spirit when it came to their situations, she knew she had lost him. Whatever happened to him over the summer had sent him spiraling toward the back of the closet and he wasn't coming out. Resignedly, Santana just shook some slushy from her hair and decided to deal with Dave later.

That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't take a few shots at Azimio. After all, she was still Santana. "Your hands don't count, moron."

Azimio bristled as Dave's eyebrows shot up. "Fuck you Chiquita."

Sometimes she just couldn't help herself. "You wish." Santana shot back before turning on her heel, heading straight for the nearest restroom.

Cleaning up took a while and she ended up missing a third of glee club. Trying to wash the slushy out of her weave ignited a new fire beneath her once simmering anger, bringing it back to a full boil. She ripped the bandage off of her head wound and threw it out, hoping that the exposure wouldn't affect the fact that the stitches were due out today. She cleaned it as best she could with hot water and foam soap, hoping for the best. Her dress, her awesome green and white striped dress and cute white sweater were ruined. There was no way the purple was going to come out of that sweater. She would've balled it up and threw it in the trash but then she would've had nothing to cover her shoulders. Besides she wanted Artie to see what his spiteful stunt had accomplished. It sucked that she had to wear it for the rest of the day but she knew that Artie's day was going to suck much worse in a few minutes.

Smirking, she reapplied some make-up and put her best bitch face on, verbal guns at the ready. She picked her purse up from the sink and felt it vibrate. It was only then that she realized Brittany might be worried about her. She pulled her phone out while she exited the restroom and opened it to find more than half a dozen text messages from her girlfriend. With each text Brittany's concern seemed to grow. She sent a quick reply before quickening her pace down the hall. She could hear the club practicing their vocal exercises.

When she rounded the corner into the doorway, most of the club stopped singing. Will sighed. "Santana you're—" He trailed off when he recognized the unusual tint her clothes were sporting.

Brittany practically ran from the seat she had taken and pulled her girlfriend in for a hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Santana whispered, smiling slightly at the blonde. "Sorry Mr. Schu but I had to clean up."

"What happened?" Quinn asked.

"I had a run-in with some assholes who think I should only wear purple now that I'm out and proud." She crossed the room, passing a certain shame-faced someone right by. She was only getting started. "Funny how I let you guys know on Monday and by Friday it's all over the school." She sat down in a seat in the front row. Brittany immediately sat next to her and grabbed her hand in silent support.

"If you think it was any of us you're mistaken." Rachel said defensively, irritated by the interruption of her practice.

"That's where you're wrong, Short Stack." She swiveled in her seat to fully face Artie, who had suddenly found his gloved hands very interesting. "This is all your fault. You just couldn't keep your big, fat jealous mouth shut could you? What did you think would happen exactly? That I would crack under the pressure and run screaming back into the closet? That the gay panic would make me break up with Brittany so you could roll in under the radar and sweep her off her feet?"

Artie said nothing.

"Is that true?" Mercedes asked.

"That's not cool." Sam voiced right after her.

"Santana, I think—" Will started but Santana cut him off.

"No, I want to hear what he has to say for himself." She stood and stalked over to him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Artie's head snapped up, his eyes red-rimmed but burning with anger. "I never promised to keep your secret. Why should I have? What would it have gotten me? Nothing. And if I'm going to be honest, I think you deserve it. You deserve everything you get and do you know why? Because you're a bitch. You've been nothing but a bitch to me and everyone else in this room, including Brittany."

"Artie, that's enough." Will warned.

"That's not true." Brittany argued softly. "San's been super sweet to me."

Artie scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah for what? A week? She gets into one dumb accident and suddenly everyone is okay with the fact that she does nothing but cut us down every chance she gets?" He looked past Santana's intimidating form toward the rest of the club, who were all shocked into silence. "She wouldn't do the same for any one of you."

"Knock it off Abrams." Puck warned. "She's going through some shit you can't understand."

"Guys—" Will tried to interject, but it was no use.

"No, you know what? He's right." Santana turned for a moment to face the rest of the club. "I have been nothing but a bitch to everyone in here. So yeah, maybe I do deserve slushy facials every day from here on out." She turned back to Artie and crouched down to his level, resting her hands on the armrests of his chair. "But you've not only exposed me, you've also exposed Brittany. That means she's in as much danger as I am of getting not only slushied, but outright attacked just for loving someone like me." She leaned in closer to him, nearly nose to nose. Artie stiffened, bracing himself as her eyes narrowed. Her voice low, she whispered, "And if something happens to her, you can bet your numb, useless ass that I'm coming for you."

"That's enough Santana!" Will shouted, finally getting the attention of everyone in the room.

Santana stood. "It's cool Mr. Schu. We're done here."

"I think you should leave." Will said to the girl, eliciting several protests from the other members.

"What?" Mercedes and Kurt both voiced simultaneously.

"Are you serious?" Puck shouted.

"Why should Santana leave? She didn't do anything wrong." Quinn voiced angrily, shooting daggers at Artie.

Will put his hands up, silencing them. "Guys, we can't have this tension and drama distracting us right now. We need to focus all of our energy on songs for Sectionals." He turned to Artie. "I think it's best if you left too." Sparing a glance at Santana he nodded. "You can both come back Monday but I want your issues checked at the door. You don't have to like each other but you have to remain professional enough to compete together. If you can't do that, then don't bother showing up."

"Fine." Santana conceded, grabbing her bag and exiting the room quickly.

Artie looked at Brittany, whom he had never seen look so upset. "Brittany—"

Brittany only shook her head. "Don't talk to me." She gathered her things quickly before sprinting for the door. "San wait!"

Artie gathered his things quietly, avoiding all of the eyes trained on him. As per usual, Rachel shot from her seat and tried to refocus the club, chattering about a song she had just recently been reintroduced to. As he wheeled past Will he paused. "I'm sorry Mr. Schu."

Will shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you Artie. I understand you're upset but what you did was wrong. You betrayed Santana's trust. Despite what she's done she's still a member of this club and we're supposed to support each other no matter what. I meant what I said. I would hate to lose you but if you can't work with Santana then you're no longer welcome. Same goes for her."

Artie nodded and exhaled heavily before rolling out.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"San! Santana wait up!" Brittany called after the girl, who was walking so fast she was practically running. "San!" Santana finally stopped by the doorway to the parking lot, turning to face Brittany with a broken expression. When Brittany reached her she was winded. "Jeeze. I forgot how fast you could walk when you're mad." She put a hand on her stomach, slowly catching her breath. "Are you sure you're okay? Don't lie to me."

Santana hesitated for a moment before exhaling. "I am. I am okay. I mean, I'm upset but I kind of saw it coming."

"What? Mr. Schu kicking you out?"

Santana shook her head. "No. I mean, the backlash. The slushies. I was afraid of it but there's nothing I can do about it now. I just," she exhaled, "I hope it doesn't get any worse. Do you know what I mean?"

Brittany nodded, her eyes shining. "You're worried about me."

Santana smiled sadly stepped closer to the taller girl, running a hand up and down her forearm. "I want to be with you Brittany. But I don't want to have to worry about what's coming around the corner, or to look over my shoulder. This," she gestured to her stained clothing, "is nothing compared to what people could do. I don't want that for you or for myself. Please understand what I'm saying."

"Santana," Brittany exhaled, her shoulders drooping just slightly. "I'm going to say it one more time only, okay? I love you. I don't care what happens as long as I get to be with you." When Santana looked down Brittany stuck a finger beneath her chin and lifted her gaze. "We'll get through it together and when we graduate we can get out of here and go live in that lesbian colony in New York like you were talking about."

Santana grinned though her eyes were glistening. "You'd follow me to New York?"

Brittany nodded. "I'd follow you anywhere. New York. China. The Moon. Anywhere and everywhere."

Pressing their bodies together, Santana ran her hand up Brittany's neck and around the back, threading her fingers through her long blonde tresses before pulling her into a kiss. It was long and slow and full of love. For a moment, Santana let the world slip away and lost herself in the sensation of Brittany's lips, of her tongue, of her hands and her body. For a moment, she let herself forget about the fact that she wouldn't get to New York. She wouldn't see the end of senior year. For a moment she forgot all of it and let herself get lost in her ever-consuming and evolving love for the girl she was proud to call her friend, her lover, her everything.

For a moment.

**_Okay so having Mr. Shue kick Santana out was inspired by the current season, but don't worry. Santana won't stay away for long. Artie...well..I haven't decided on him yet. _**

**_Until next time. _** ****


	11. Author's Note

Hello all,

I apologize if I've gotten your hopes up and you thought this was a new chapter. I had received some reviews recently and I feel horrible. It has been so long and I don't know how to begin to explain why it has been so long. But, I do hope that you all will read through this entire note before closing the page and that you aren't angry with me.

I started writing this story in the summer between Season 2 and Season 3 of "Glee." I had caught the show during one of those marathons where they show several episodes at once and the writing spark had hit me. I watched every episode to get a proper idea of Santana, Brittany and the whole gang and then began to write. I shuttled out two stories, one dreary and the other sweet, just to get my feet wet. Then I began with the chaptered story that this very note is in.

When I started writing this story, I was naive. I thought I "knew" Death. I had seen the shows and watched the documentaries and read all the sad, sad stories of those who were ripped from life too soon. I thought I could make Death human. Partly because despite the research, I didn't really know it and partly because, like most, I was curious and afraid of it. I had never experienced the trauma that was death. I had lost a great grandfather when I was very young, but he was very old and I was not sat down and talked to about it. One day he was there, the next he wasn't and when I asked, my parents told me what every parent tells their child, that grandpa had gone to heaven and he was "in a better place."

So when I wrote about death, I wrote of him like I would any other character. I took what I knew from research and took artistic liberties and made Santana meet "Death" in a somewhat human form. She can only see him, but they interact. He talks to her. He guides her. He tries to help her see that not everyone has the time they think they have. That it can be snatched away at any moment. Of course, Santana, in the story, gets the chance to know when her time is up and gets the opportunity to steer her life in the right direction. To get to change her ways and experience her own version of happiness before it's all taken away.

And I wrote with fervor. I wrote it with passion. Even when there wasn't an update, I was writing scenes and changing timelines and coming up with new ideas. This story was my project and though I was borrowing most of the characters from "Glee," the character of Death was mine. The character of Death was mine to control. I thought I had him to control, anyway.

And then he stopped for a visit.

And when he left, he took my aunt with him.

My aunt, who I had known since birth and with whom I shared a home, suffered from epilepsy. She suffered from epilepsy since she was a child and it was always controlled by medication. In the last year or so, the medication she had taken all her life wasn't working and her siezures were getting worse. She was on new medication but it worked on and off. When we found her that morning…I truly understood that Death was not something anyone could control, in reality, in fiction or otherwise.

After my aunt, I was lost for a while. That was one of the roughest times of my life. It was hard but I, and my family, struggled through. (It's still hard from time to time.)

But He wasn't done with me yet.

I went to the dentist a few months after my aunt had passed for just a regular check-up and it was anything but. I, like my mother and her mother, had developed periodontal disease and needed antibiotics to cure the infection. My dentist wrote out a prescription and sent me on my way. Four days into my antibiotic regimen, I was on my way to the hospital. The antibiotics made me terribly ill and I could not keep anything, solid or liquid, down. I was dehydrated to near kidney failure.

After that, I had no passion for writing. I also hadn't the time. Season 3 came and went, and then Season 4 with the whole breakup debacle made me lose motivation for the story completely. I still read stories and wrote some reviews but I never got back to writing.

But I'm trying. And I'm toying with the idea scrapping what has been written and reworking the story from the beginning. (Your opinions on that idea would be welcomed.)

I don't want to disappoint anyone and I didn't want to leave you without answers. Know that I am trying though. And I am reading the wonderful stories on this site every day.

I appreciate all of the reviews I have received and all of the favorites and follows as well. I hope that you will be patient as I try to work my way back into writing.

Thank you,

A.


	12. My God

I have no words. None. I didn't know Cory personally but I watched him for four years personify this sweet, oafish, sometimes insensitive but mostly well-meaning kid. A lot of the people in this particular fandom didn't like Finn Hudson for what he did to Kurt and Santana and his various character inconsistencies. I myself found Finn to be much of a dope. But Cory played him brilliantly.

From the interviews I've seen, Cory seemed like a genuinely sweet and fun man who recently had some past troubles come back up, but seemed to be working through them. I have no idea what happened but I was shocked and devastated. Actually devastated by the death of someone I've never personally known and more devastated for those who did know and love this man who left so soon. The show will never be the same; the cast will never be the same.

I'm heartbroken for everyone. For his family, for Lea, for the cast. For his fans who followed and loved him so.

Heartbroken.

Rest In Peace Cory


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